Identity
by Asophagoose
Summary: “But before you leave, Mr. Malfoy, I’m going to ask you a question. Who are you?” Draco, in his rush to escape this blonde-headed menace, replied scathingly, “I don’t know!” And the more he thought about it, the more he knew it was true.


_Identity_

Draco leaned his head up against the window, staring haughtily at the scenery as it passed. He could not pretend he didn't want to go back to Hogwarts – but it was just so much _work. He had to be the best in class (Potions, at any rate), gain fear, and respect (not that he didn't already have it), and take care of his two "friends," Crabbe and Goyle._

At least, he thought, I'm not at home, if that's what you want to call it. Draco's life had certainly gone downhill since the return of the Dark Lord: His father was never home, and his mother was always hosting Lucius's Death Eater friends for a dinner party or such. It was hardly the most thrilling pastime in the world, listening to their conversations about the Master, and least of all, that _Potter_. Why did Potter get to be so important anyway? It wasn't like he had actually _done anything to deserve it. Draco did lots of things. Why wasn't he famous like stupid __Potter?_

At that moment Draco realized his face had darkened into a scowl. Pansy Parkinson was looking at him curiously from across the compartment, so, before she could ask any questions, he quickly smoothed his features. He stood up, paining himself to be smooth, and glared at his two cronies to do the same. Goyle shoved the rest of his Pumpkin Pasty into his mouth before following the other two out of the compartment.

"We're just gonna stretch our legs," Draco said, smirking, to the others in the cubicle. He slid the door shut and began to search for Potter.

Five minutes later, having not located their target, Draco and his cronies' enthusiasm began to wane. Draco decided that if they were not in this last compartment, he would go back to Pansy and the others.

Draco turned a corner and looked through the glass pane. Potter was not there, as he had expected –  but someone else was. A girl, with long, blonde hair, was staring with abnormally wide eyes through the window. She stood up, and Draco had a strange urge to quickly move away – he motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to go back to the compartment, and they fled, but Draco could not move his feet. He was somehow rooted to the spot.

The girl slid open the compartment door. "You," she said simply, and dragged him inside. Draco was taken aback, but remembered to scowl again just in time as she looked up at him.

"Yes. Wait. What do you mean – _me? And weren't you hanging around with Potter last year?" He remembered not to jabber, but it was too late. He had already done the damage. He scowled._

"Oh, I see. I refuse to wait, and I mean you as in the person who is standing in front of me. I was hanging around with Harry a bit last year, yes. May I ask a question of my own?"

She seemed to be waiting for an answer, but Draco, confused, just nodded, his lip curling. This girl was either rather impudent and trying to play some kind of _game_ with him, or she was absolutely insane.

She proceeded with her question. "What do you want?"

Draco was becoming tired of this already. "I want – what do you mean, what do I want? You were the one who dragged me in here by my shirt collar in the first place! I was looking for –"

He cut himself off – what would this girl say if he told her that he was looking for Potter?

"I'm Luna Lovegood," she said, shaking his hand. Again Draco was caught by surprise. Wasn't she just interrogating him? And didn't she want to know who he had been looking for?

Oh. Draco looked at his hand. I don't _want her to know who I'm looking for._

He remembered to frown – again, late – and snatched back his hand. Luna just stared with those abnormally large eyes.

"Draco Malfoy," he said snappishly.

"Please sit," she said vaguely after a moment's silence. Draco did - only because he was taken by a complete wave of surprise, mind – and there was another moment's silence, just like before. Luna sat back in her seat and began to unwrap a Chocolate Frog, staring unblinkingly at Draco, who glanced haughtily around the compartment before snatching a Chocolate Frog from the opposite seat, just to see Luna's reaction.

She continued to stare, unperturbed. Draco glowered at his Frog, chucking the card on the ground and shoving the chocolate into his mouth. The girl would not be disturbed when she was staring, it seemed, and continued her dreamy activity, munching on some Droobles Best Blowing Gum.

That was when Draco noticed the copy of _The Quibbler on the seat next to her. He snatched it, and Luna jumped, finally unbalanced. "What are you doing?" she asked, but Draco was paying no attention. He smirked at her, flipping through the pages, until he found what he was looking for – __letters to the editor._

Dear Mr. Lovegood,

the letter began.

"So," Draco sneered, dangling the magazine between his fingers. "Your father – is it? – is the editor of _The Quibbler. What do you have to say about that article about my father he let pass through last month?"_

"I?" Luna asked, keeping her eyes the whole time on the swinging magazine. "I have nothing to say, as I am not the editor of the magazine. But you have something to say, and that is that you apologize for the disrespect of another student's property."

She snatched back the magazine, and tucked it securely into her bag.

Draco, who would have normally bullied her into telling what was in the magazine, or, better yet, showing him, just sat arrogantly and sneered. Because Luna was not the kind of person that you could bully into telling a secret. Luna was an impenetrable, unmovable force that simply could not be stopped or even slowed – and Draco did not know why, but he _liked _that. He didn't like the fact that she was impudent, and played games with him, but that could be changed.

But what was he _thinking_?

Draco stood up, as did Luna. "Where are you going?" She said, blocking the doorway. "Weren't we having a pleasant conversation?"

Draco looked at her with a mixture of fury, indignation, and surprise. "We weren't having a conversation!"

"Well we would have," said Luna pointedly, "and we can now if you sit down."

"But I don't want to have a conversation with you!"

"How rude. Well, I can't stop you. Do what you will." And with that she sat down, and began munching another Chocolate Frog.

"But before you leave, Mr. Malfoy, I'm going to ask you a question. Who are you?"

Draco, in his rush to escape this blonde-headed menace, replied scathingly, "I don't know!"

And the more he thought about it, the more he knew it was true. He walked more slowly back to the others.

When Draco got back to Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott, they were of course curious as to where he had been – to which he replied in a mumble, "Got distracted," and didn't speak anymore.


End file.
